


Welcome to Tokyo

by Daegaer



Series: A Demon in Japan [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: Angels, Crossover, Demons, Gen, Shinegami, The Arrangement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-20
Updated: 2004-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley feels his business trip isn't so bad. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to Tokyo

**Author's Note:**

> Connected also to the [Black Omen](http://archiveofourown.org/series/144819) series of fics.

Crowley glared out the window in dull headachy fury at the Tokyo crowds as Aziraphale chatted with the taxi driver. The angel could handle things for once, he thought. _He_ was just going to sit here quietly and pretend he hadn't inadvertently become the focus of polite restrained hilarity by speaking mediaeval Japanese in Narita. It had been a long flight, he thought, he was tired. Anyone could make a mistake now and then.

It was, at first, a relief to get to the hotel. Then Crowley took in its distinctly two-star appearance, and the dull fury got a lot brighter.

"I'm not staying in this flea-pit," he snarled, making sure his Japanese was quite up-to-date.

"Crowley, don't be so rude," Aziraphale said. "It's perfectly fine. Anyway, we're not paying for it, so you shouldn't complain. Make sure you keep the receipts."

"Bloody cheapskates," Crowley said up in his room. "Don't tell me the locals can't afford something better for us. Are you charging them consultancy fees?"

"Don't be silly," Aziraphale murmured. "Oh, look, you have a nice view."

"It's not a nice view," Crowley snapped, "it's a busy street."

"Well, it's very, um, local," Aziraphale said. "We can switch rooms if you want."

"There's a street light right outside your window," Crowley muttered. " _Some_ of us actually sleep, you know."

"Still trying that out?" Aziraphale asked cheerfully.

Crowley reminded himself that rolling his eyes wasn't terribly effective while wearing the sunglasses. "Yeah," he said. "For the past few thousand years. I thought it only fair to give it a good trial." He poked at the bed unhappily. "You don't want me to go with you to the local office, do you?"

"No, no I don't think that would be a good idea," Aziraphale said. "You stay here, and I'll be as quick as I can." With a little wave he went out the door.

Crowley did his best to sleep while Aziraphale was out. His bed was somewhat surprised to find itself suddenly just the right length for his height, and the pillowcases were equally astonished to find themselves smelling just like the ones in his flat. Crowley slept very well.

He was woken by the sound of his mobile phone chirping merrily. Restraining the murderous impulses to throw it across the room, he sat up.

"'Lo?" he yawned.

"It's me," Aziraphale said. "Aziraphale," he added, a touch unnecessarily. "Can you meet us downstairs?"

"Who's 'us'?" Crowley asked.

"One, er, sorry, _two_ of the locals are going to show us round and answer any questions we might have."

Crowley frowned. "Do I want to meet these locals? Isn't it going to be just a touch embarrassing for both of us to admit I'm giving you a hand?"

"Oh, things are done differently out here," Aziraphale said blithely.

"I believe that's why I didn't want to come," Crowley snapped, and hung up before Aziraphale could come up with a retort. He glowered at his surroundings a moment longer, then jumped out of bed, materialising a suit as he did so. Then he sauntered forth to meet his doom.

Aziraphale was loitering in the lobby with an excitable-looking dark haired fellow. As Crowley came closer he could hear that they were rhapsodising about great dinners they had eaten. He grinned. Trust Aziraphale to find a soulmate. All he needed now was a soul.

"Hi," he said casually.

"Oh!" Aziraphale broke off his description of a well-remembered creme brulee from Paris in 1904. "This is Crowley, my er, associate."

"Associate?" Crowley echoed with a sharp grin. "I can see you put a lot of thought into that, Aziraphale. Hi," he said, holding out a hand. "Anthony Crowley."

The excitable-looking fellow pumped his hand enthusiastically, a big foolish grin on his face, his violet eyes creased up happily. "Hello! Hello! I-am-Tsuzuki-Asato-and-I-am-most-pleasured-to-meet-you!"

"Please, don't try to speak English on my account," Crowley sniggered. "How long do think he's been practicing that?" he muttered in English to Aziraphale.

"Stop being rude," Aziraphale said. "Please excuse him, he's just _impossible_ ," he murmured to Tsuzuki.

"Well, what's going on, Tsuzuki-san?" Crowley asked, seeing they were about to get embroiled in a sea of "excuse mes" and "oh no, excuse _mes_."

"We're all colleagues!" Tsuzuki cried cheerfully. "Call me Tsuzuki! Let's go to lunch and we can bring you up to date. I hope your headache is better now?" He looked sincere and worried for Crowley's health. Crowley looked over his sunglasses at Aziraphale.

"Well, I had to tell them why you didn't come to the office with me," Aziraphale said benignly.

"Fine," Crowley sighed. "Yeah, I'm feeling better, thanks. Isn't there supposed to be someone else meeting us?"

"Yes! Kurosaki Hisoka, my partner," Tsuzuki said, all smiles again. "Hisoka! Hisoka, we're going to lunch."

The blond kid across the lobby turned from his disdainful examination of the prints on the walls, and gave the three of them a cool, unfriendly look. Crowley's heart decided it was a good time to sink a bit further. He looked at Aziraphale and Tsuzuki who had identical bright and silly smiles on their faces as they started talking about food again, and back at the kid, who'd upgraded his look from merely unfriendly to an outright scowl. Crowley adjusted his sunglasses with a feeling of resignation. He was clearly doomed.

Lunch was better than Crowley had dared hope. The restaurant was perfectly pleasant, and once he managed to stop Tsuzuki trying to persuade the staff to make English food, everything went smoothly.

"You're sure you don't want them to make toad and chips or fish in the hole for you?" Tsuzuki said anxiously.

" _Yes_ ," Crowley said, shuddering at his narrow escape. _Blessed locals_ , he thought, feeling rather aggrieved at the way Aziraphale was giggling into his handkerchief under the guise of a noodle going down the wrong way. "Can someone please explain the situation to me now?"

"Not till we've had dessert!" Tsuzuki said cheerfully, and began perusing the menu again, muttering with concentration.

"I hope you're not in a hurry," Hisoka said acidly.

"It talks!" Crowley said with a grin. Hisoka glared at him and shut up again. Crowley shrugged. He'd never claimed to be good with kids. He looked at the different fruit pies that the waitress had brought to Aziraphale and Tsuzuki and decided he might as well have some dessert himself. A minute or so late he was picking happily enough at a pastry that seemed to have some creamy filling and a nice toffee flavoured icing. A few seconds after that and it had been stolen and eaten by the other two. Crowley sighed and looked at the superior little smile the kid wasn't trying to hide.

"So what's your story?" he asked.

"I was murdered," Hisoka said blandly.

Crowley sat back and cast an imploring glance up at the ceiling, then one down at the floor. No one seemed inclined to help him out, so he looked back at Hisoka instead. He had to work with these people, he thought. He might as well be polite.

"Oh," he said. "I'm, er, sorry."

Hisoka shrugged.

"Look," Crowley said in desperation as Tsuzuki called the waitress back again, "maybe you can fill me in on what the problem is. Aziraphale's been fairly useless in giving me information."

"Hn," Hisoka said, looking at the other two in a mixture of annoyance and awe. "I never thought I'd see anyone who could eat as much dessert as Tsuzuki can. Is your partner also obsessed with slacking off and consuming his own body-weight in sweets every day?"

"He's not exactly my part--" Crowley began, then nodded. "Yes. Yes, he single-handedly keeps Cadbury's in the black, and hasn't done an honest day's work since I've known him."

Hisoka looked marginally more friendly, or at least as if he acknowledged a fellow sufferer. Crowley smiled encouragingly at him.

"You really should have come to the briefing in Meifu," Hisoka said, in a tone of voice that made it clear he suspected a certain amount of slacking off had been involved.

"Had this terrible headache," Crowley said, looking pitiful.

"There've been a huge increase in the numbers of violent deaths," Hisoka said at last. " _Lots_ of people dying before their time; riots all over the country; suspicion of foreign involvement and so on."

"The Americans?" Crowley said, frowning as he mentally reviewed the last few contracts he'd made States-side.

"No," Hisoka said in the calm voice kids have always used to explain things to their mentally-deficient elders, " _demons_."

"Er," Crowley said, and covered his confusion with a sip of tea. "Are you sure?" He hadn't heard anything, but that was hardly unusual.

Hisoka shrugged. "You really didn't know anything of this?" he asked. "Why were you sent along?"

"Aziraphale asked me as a favour," Crowley said, distracted. He hoped he wasn't about to get in trouble with Downstairs. _Why does no one ever tell me anything?_ he thought.

"Even _humans_ are noticing something's up," Hisoka said. "The government's talking about bringing in martial law."

"Ah," Crowley said, relieved. "It's probably all human silliness and the country's just headed for a period of repression and abuse scandals."

"There are rumours of some big demon trying to get itself summoned," Hisoka said.

"Yeah, well, that's normal," Crowley laughed, "but you'd be surprised how often their own offices' incompetence foul that sort of stuff up." He looked at Hisoka's expression and went on quickly, "Er, I mean, surely that's rather unlikely. Even for this bloody country."

"What's wrong with my country?" Hisoka said, the scowl coming back.

Crap, Crowley thought. Kids were always so _touchy_. "Riots, mass murders, martial law and demon summoning," he said. "As you just pointed out."

Hisoka settled down, muttering something about it raining all the time in England.

"I'm glad Hisoka briefed you," Aziraphale said cheerfully.

"Mmm. Thanks, Hisoka!" Tsuzuki said. "Miss! Can we have the bill, please?"

"Were you eating dessert in an attempt not to have to tell me about the violent deaths and demon summonings yourself?" Crowley said in what he thought was a remarkably calm voice.

"It's a shame to see one's more senior partner slacking off like that," Hisoka said, watching Tsuzuki decide to have some cakes wrapped to take with them. "But you get used to it, I suppose."

"He's not my senior part--," Crowley started, then gave up in disgust.

"Will you look after the receipt, Hisoka?" Tsuzuki said, dropping it on the table.

"Tatsumi-san is never going to OK this as an expense," Hisoka grumbled, carefully putting it away.

"Well, he should!" Tsuzuki cried indignantly. "He has to make up for the inadequate accommodation he arranged for our friends!"

"Tsuzuki thinks anyone sent to work on earth should always be put up in quality hotels," Hisoka said, rolling his eyes. "He doesn't understand about departmental budgets."

"The trick," Crowley said, deciding that maybe Tsuzuki wasn't such a bad fellow if he understood how horrid it was not to stay somewhere decent, "is in learning how to present expense accounts so they look acceptable. You wouldn't believe the things I've had my people stump up for --" He trailed off as Hisoka gave him a dirty look and stalked off muttering about everyone but him being a lazy, greedy, moral degenerate. _Kids_ , he thought. Who could understand them? Well, this whole consultancy thing shouldn't take too long, Crowley was sure. A quick assessment of the violent deaths and so on, send Aziraphale off to tell the local office what to do, and they could be back in London by the end of the week, or by halfway through the next, if the angel was slow.

Crowley felt quite pleased with this timescale. A week and a half in Japan, he thought. He could handle that. Nothing much could happen in that length of time. He smiled to himself, thinking that he was going to prove to himself that this was just a perfectly normal piece of Earth. This time he was going to show Japan what for.

 

* * * * *


End file.
